Flowery Cage
by Nicor Warg-Fyrweorm
Summary: After a day of work, there's nothing better to do than go back to one's office and find an unkown object on one's desk, ready to blow up and unsettle everything. Fortunately for Prowl, and the Autobots, some bombs are worth exploding.
There's something on his desk. It's a quite big, for human standards, pot full of sand.

And there's a plant on it.

Grayish green, with stick-like closed white flowers.

And that's it.

No note, nothing suspicious about the pot of sand and the plant growing on it.

Of course, that makes Prowl stop just inside his door and analyze it critically.

Nothing.

So, he calls Sideswipe to his office.

The twins look startled when they see him waiting outside, and Sunstreaker immediately gives his brother a look that is answered with a confused shrug.

Neither of them has any idea what the pot and plant are, or how they got here.

So, Prowl calls suspect number two to the scene.

By the time Jazz arrives, a small group of Autobots has joined the Doorwinger and the frontliners outside the office, all of them observing the innocent plant with curiosity and uneasiness.

"Where's the party and why wasn't I invited?" the saboteur asks as soon as he sees them, an amused smile on his faceplate, and Prowl gives him a deadpanned look and points at the pot on his desk. "Huh? Oh, that! Yeah, I put it there."

"Why."

"Come inside, I'll show you."

And the Head of Special Operations enters his office.

Knowing Jazz won't let himself be caught in his own prank due to pride, Prowl follows and closes the door before any of the spectators decide to come inside too.

The collective 'aw' of disappointment still gets through the door, though, making the smaller mech snicker.

"Now, we turn the lights down. Slowly."

More curious than suspicious anymore, the Praxian observes as the saboteur does just that, the lighting decreasing bit by bit in the next five minutes.

And, as the darkness creeps in, the flowers bloom, opening in a spiral-like pattern, to reveal four big white petals turning yellow at their base.

"I know you don't believe in luck, but they reminded me of four leaf clovers and they're pretty _and_ modest. Besides, you know I always say this place needs more color," Jazz whispers, as if the sound of his voice could upset the tiny flowers on their green stalks growing out of sand. "So, now they're your responsibility. Remember, they only bloom at night, opening in the evening and closing in the morning, so you better adjust the lights to their cycle."

"Meaning I'm not allowed to keep working at night, because there's no way Ratchet will let me strain my systems by working with this light."

"Well, you can always come work in the Rec Room, it isn't _that_ noisy. Or, my office door is always open, and I'll even adjust the volume of the music."

"If this is your attempt at me 'socializing'…"

"Yes?"

"It worked."

And Prowl doesn't need the dim-light vision inherent to all Cybertronian to see the beaming smile on Jazz's face.

Nor does he need it to know when it turns into a tiny and almost nostalgic one.

"Those aren't the only reasons, you know," the saboteur adds, and the Doorwinger stays silent, observing the smaller mech move silently to let one black dactyl caress a grayish green leaf. "When their life cycle comes to an end, they go dry and curl over themselves, up and inwards. That's why the humans call it birdcage primrose," he explains, and the darkened blue visor looks up, meeting his own dimmed optics with a slight widening of his tiny smile. "We're only trapped when we deactivate, Prowler."

Prowl tenses a bit, startled, before relaxing with a smile of his own.

"You really went a long way this time."

"Actually, I found them during patrol. I just thought they looked like four leaf clovers, Hound was the one to tell me everything else. But, you know, it's wise to learn from all species, even the tiniest of flowers."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The Autobots blamed the close quarters and the new dynamic of the war to explain why their usually reclusive Second in Command was more visible and approachable on Earth.

No one ever looked twice at the pot of sand with the white-flowered gray green bush on his desk.

* * *

 **UPDATED 22/03/2017:** Corrected grammar.

* * *

 **AN:** From the prompts **Jazz: Wildflowers** and **Prowl: Flower**.

I'm back! My sincerest apologies for my vanishing act, I swear I had every intention to not let things get out of hand but... *shrug* You know the saying, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

That said, to those following my multi-chaptered fics, I can't promise regular updates once more (though I do have another chapter of _Half the Truth_ ready that I'm going to proof-read now, so expect it soon), but I finally got some order wrestled into my life, so I'll try to _at least_ get _one_ chapter of _something_ a week *tapping on wood*. We'll see.

So, there you go, with another _Equals One_ prompt that got out of hand (and it's fluffy!). Enjoy, and have a nice day!


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